


A little bit of a gay vibe

by PoemAboutCitylights



Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: Comfort, Driving, Fluff, Humor, Insecurities, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemAboutCitylights/pseuds/PoemAboutCitylights
Summary: “So did Rafa just refuse to give us a ride?” Roger slurred against Alexander Zverev’s ear.An amused chuckle spread on the young German’s lips.“Game, Set, Match, Federer,” he commented and clapped Roger’s back.“But why?”





	A little bit of a gay vibe

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the commen rumour that Rafa is really insecure in a car and idk, I just felt like giving it a shot :)

Roger first started noticing that something was off when he had sprained his ankle during a shared training session with Rafa, asking the Spaniard if he’d drop him off on his way back to the hotel.   
“You… want drive with me?”  
“Yeah,” Roger had replied, shrugging his shoulders casually, “you’re here with your car, aren’t you?”   
Rafa had nodded hastily, chewing on his bottom lip nervously, while his shoulders had suddenly tensed up.   
“Is there a problem? You know, I could call a cab if that’s better…”   
He hadn’t known what to do with the younger one’s anguished grimace.   
“Probably better, no?” the apologizing smile Rafa had sent in his direction had done nothing to clean up the Swiss’ confusion.   
Was Rafa keeping something from him?   
It wasn’t like them to hold back with something and he would have asked the other one about it if Ivan hadn’t called for him at that moment.   
When Roger had looked back to Rafa, the Spaniard had snuck away and out of sight.   
A taxi it had been, then.   
  
The next time it happened, they were out to grab a few drinks with the other members of Team Europe after having won the Laver Cup and Rafa, being the only one who had kept sober, really shouldn’t have had any excuse to not drive them back to their hotel.   
However, Rafa had done that thing with his hands, gesticulating while speaking way too fast for Roger to catch up with the Spaniard, especially given how drunk he already was.   
“So did Rafa just refuse to give us a ride?” Roger slurred against Alexander Zverev’s ear.   
An amused chuckle spread on the young German’s lips.   
“Game, Set, Match, Federer,” he commented and clapped Roger’s back.   
“Why?” he later remembered asking but whatever Sascha had been responding had vanished from his mind with the next round of shots.   
  
Roger eventually grew suspicious when he was chatting with Rafa in the player’s lounge a couple of months later.   
“Any appointments for today?” Roger had asked, nipping on his smoothie.   
Rafa had said something about skyping with uncle Toni, then asking the Swiss about his own plans.   
“I’ve got a media day ahead. We’re filming an interview on the road. Me driving through the city whilst talking about stuff, you know. Didn’t they want you to do that as well?”   
Rafa suddenly paled and Roger didn’t miss how his pinky finger started trembling, “Sí, no, I not do that.”   
“You don’t do that?”   
“Sí,” Rafa groaned, eyes still a little wide from shock.   
“Why not? It’s better than a normal interview, isn’t it?”   
The Spaniard shook his head rapidly and the older one grew curious.   
“What’s so bad about it?”   
“I-…” Rafa started, his gaze dropping to the floor, “I just not like. Talking.”   
Roger chuckled, crossing his legs while leaning back against the couch they were sitting on, his gaze fixed on Rafa next to him.   
“Who does? Apart from Grigor, I guess. So spill it, what’s so bad about an interview in a car.”   
“I not like cars,” Rafa answered, once again chewing on his bottom lip.   
“Rafa…”   
“Qué?”  
“Come on, tell me the truth.”  
He suddenly got an idea.   
“Wait, you _can_ drive, right? Yeah, sure you can, I saw you leaving in your car a couple of times.”  
However, Roger felt like he was on the right track with it, so he leaned forward and saw Rafa leaning back, his eyes widening once again.   
When the younger one stayed silent, Roger wasn’t keen on having to wait for a reply for all eternity, though.   
“Okay, whatever it is, we’re going on a cruise together. Tomorrow afternoon, after your training session. Save the date, I’ll be waiting by the player’s parking lot.”   
Before Rafa could articulate his doubts, Roger got up in a hurry, winking at the younger one one last time.

Roger wasn’t sure whether he had actually expected Rafa to show up but then again, it was _Rafa_ , and he was way too polite to just ditch him.  
“What he doing here?” Rafa asked with slight panic in his voice when he spotted Sascha, who was following Roger.   
“I told him we’re going for a cruise.”   
“You guys know that back in the days, that’s what gays called it when they were looking for a mate, right?” Sascha grinned, looking far too pleased with himself for Roger’s liking.   
“Yeah, sorry about that, Rafa. He refused to leave.”   
The Spaniard shot the youngest a dark glance and eventually rolled his eyes.   
“So,” Sascha started, “the _cruising_.”  
He rubbed his hands together and winked at the older players.   
“Yes,” Roger said and pointed at the Majorcan’s car, “get in there, Rafa.”  
“Wait,” Sascha chimed in, his lips parting, “you’re _actually_ going for a drive? I thought you were up to something cool.”  
“What could we possibly be up to?” Roger asked in confusion and stared at the tall German.   
“Did you even listen when I told you about _cruising_ and the gays?” Sascha let out a disappointed sigh but then opened up the backdoor of Rafa’s car and plopped down on the backseat.   
Roger shot the younger Spaniard a glance.   
“Ready?”   
“I really not get why you want this, Roger…”   
“You don’t want to tell me what’s up with you, so…”   
“Ugh,” Rafa made and ran a hand through his dark hair, “get in.”   
The Swiss did as he was told and made himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat while Rafael got in the car as well.   
“The seatbelt, Sascha…” the Majorcan mumbled before he had even made an attempt to start the engine.   
The young German groaned.   
“Fuck it, there’s nothing fun about you two.”   
“Language, Zverev!” Roger called and turned around halfway right in time to witness Sascha giving him the finger with a smirk.   
In the meantime, Rafa was fumbling for the keys and when they hadn’t pulled out of the parking lot a full minute later, Roger eyed the younger one next to him.   
Despite the car having no gearshift, Rafa’s fingers were curled around the stick, his knuckles turning white from gripping so hard.   
“You okay, Rafa?” he asked and there it was again, that anguished smile on the other player’s face.   
He got an insecure chuckle in return.   
“Is… not so simple, ok?”  
“Dude, you literally just have to shift to “R” and start driving,” Sascha commented and Rafa let out a huff of air, drawing his dark brows together.   
Roger turned around, hissing a quick “Ruhe jetzt!” before focusing on the Majorcan once again.   
Carefully, he placed his hand on top of Rafa’s and shifted to “R”.   
“There you go.”   
The Swiss couldn’t interpret the gaze that Rafa shot him, wondering if it had been gratitude or annoyance.   
And he indeed then pulled out of the parking lot without a problem, steering the car onto the road carefully.   
Only that Rafa was panting by the time they picked up speed, eyes wide as Novak’s before hitting a return.   
“Whoa,” Sascha made in the backseat.   
“Rafa, what’s wrong, are you okay?”   
“Sí, am okay, is just driving, no?” Rafa whispered through gritted teeth as if he was physically fighting against the car, “not anything to worry.”   
“Exactly,” Roger said and tried to sound reassuring, “I know you can do this!”  
Rafa kept his eyes fixed on the road but his fingers were shaking still, curling around the steering wheel.   
It was a beautiful day, with the sun out and not a single cloud in sight, despite the cold temperatures.   
Rafa hadn’t yet switched on the heating, so Roger cuddled deeper into the seat and nodded approvingly when Rafa followed the road, slowly picking up speed.   
  
But then they hit a curb side out of nowhere and Sascha let out a high-pitched shriek.   
Rafa cursed in Spanish, his shoulders falling forward in defeat, forehead sinking against the steering wheel once he had stopped the car, silence settling between them.   
“Sorry…” the Majorcan eventually mumbled and looked up almost sheepishly, discomfort written all over his face.   
“No, I’m sorry,” Roger choked, suddenly feeling like a piece of shit, “I shouldn’t have talked you into having to drive.”  
Rafa drew in his bottom lip and his gaze dropped.   
“You not know, no?”   
“No, I didn’t. What’s up with you and cars?”   
“I…” Rafa drew in a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders, “I just get really scared, no? Is all so much. All the handles and buttons and the other cars. I don’t know.”   
Rafa looked at Roger again but the sadness hadn’t vanished.   
“I get in car and feel like I not can anything. I don’t like it…” he smiled a sad smile and bit down on his bottom lip, “I hate it.”   
“Rafa…” Roger sighed, taking the younger one’s hand in his, “look at me. I’m sorry, okay? You were clearly uncomfortable and I pushed you to drive. That wasn’t okay. And don’t hate yourself for it. Driving can be very confusing.”   
Roger shot Sascha a quick glance, looking for some backup.   
“Yeah,” the German added, “Grigor once crashed his new Ferrari because he stared into the rearview mirror for too long.”   
Roger narrowed his eyes.   
“Sorry,” Sascha mouthed, “not helpful, I guess.”   
But there was a small smile spreading on Rafa’s lips and Roger took that as a win.   
“Hey,” he said to regain the Spaniard’s attention, “don’t eat yourself up because of it. There’s no need to drive if you don’t want to, ok?”   
He reached out a hand and cupped Rafa’s jaw with it, brushing his thumb over the younger one’s soft skin.   
Sascha whistled in the background.   
“Does anyone get a little bit of a gay vibe?”   
Roger turned around to the German with a growl, “How often did I tell you to stop quoting Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”   
“Gay vibes?” Rafa asked in confusion and Sascha nodded with a grin.   
“You know, as if you guys were a couple.”   
Rafa raised an eyebrow and chuckled, while Roger couldn’t help shaking his head in amusement.   
With a smile still playing on his lips, Roger leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Rafa’s lips, his hand still cupping the younger one’s jaw.   
“You know, I’ll just drive you from now on.”   
He felt the Spaniard smile against his lips while he heard Sascha drawing in a sharp breath.   
  
“Well, that actually explains a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this and if you did, please leave kudos/ a comment. 
> 
> Is there anything else you'd like to read? I'm always open for prompts and whishes xx


End file.
